Sing For Absolution
by orangesofsymmetry
Summary: "Sing for absolution, I will be singing, and falling from your grace." Phan one shot based of Sing For Absolution by Muse.


**hey**  
**I don't even know what to say I'm sorry I guess. I specialise in sad fics, it would seem.**  
**This is a songfic for Sing For Absolution by Muse (currently my favourite song, definitely deserves a listen) and is based loosely off what the commonly accepted meaning of the song is.**  
**Enjoy, I suppose, and if you like it drop me a review and if you hate it then I don't blame you.**

**Summary: sing for absolution, I will be singing, and falling from your grace**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Muse, Dan nor Phil and I am not claiming that any of the events that unfold ever happened or ever will. Lyrics are taken from Muse's sing for Absolution and belong to Muse and Warner.**

**WARNINGS: illness, character death, suicide (so cheery !1!2!1!)**

X

_lips are turning blue_  
_a kiss that can't renew_  
_I only dream of you_  
_my beautiful_

_tiptoe to your room_  
_a starlight in the gloom_  
_I only dream of you_  
_and you never knew_

X

You're asleep even though it's midday.

I don't know what I expected. I don't know what to expect.

They told me that I could take you home today. Only for today. So today, I will take you home. Today will be our day.

I know why it will be our day. We all do, but we don't admit because to admit means we have to accept and I'll never accept it.

It should be our day, but you're asleep.

I hate you.

You're wasting our time together, the time I have pined for since you were first admitted. You're so selfish. I _hate_ you. You're so weak. Your chest barely rises, eyelids never flutter. Bones covered in greying skin and thin hospital sheets. You're dying. You're so _weak_.

Can't you just be a bit stronger? This is all your fault.

A doctor checks on you. You're alive, no worse, no better. Always the same. He smiles at me on his way out, eyes flickering to my hand on yours and wondering, but I don't answer, I never do. I don't know how.

I can't explain this.

I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you.

I have never loved anyone as much as I love you.

My steady breathing and the breeze outside is all that is audible in the room. I stare at you in that bed and I breathe and I think and I stare more. Your eyelids flutter.

You wheeze a breath, spluttering on the air in your lungs and you wrench your eyelids open. Your hand tightens in mine. Still warm.

Your voice is hoarse as your greet me, watery blue eyes sparking as you wake slowly. You grin at me, a small impish smirk that warms me to my cartilage.

I help you get ready, pulling your clothes on and tying your laces. You're so weak. You should do this on your own yet you're so weak that someone has to do it for you. You stand, legs shaking and you sway slightly. I rest my hand on your upper arm and it stops. You press your lips to mine as a thanks.

I've never understood what this is. I never will. I don't ask questions, I never get answers.

This is our day. I do not dwell on taking you home.

X

I walk you through the corridors of the hospital. People smile solemnly, sympathetically, apologise and step to the side. Some look at you as if you got it lucky. Some can't even look.

One girl looks at you, a flair of recognition flaring in her eyes, because it's Phil Lester and Dan Howell, but then she sees your limp and emaciated body and she mimics the others. I don't know if you noticed her. I don't ask.

We get into the car park, you hobbling to the taxi that I called earlier. It's a walk that should take two minutes, less. You stagger and trip and stumble and it takes you five minutes to travel five metres. You start shivering.

It isn't cold. It's the hottest day of the year so far, the first inkling of summer shining through the thin clouds. It must be about fifteen today. Not cold.

You've paled, goosebumps springing up on your arms and your lips are faintly blue.

I carry you the rest of the way.

So weak.

X

I'm taking your medication from the cupboard. I'm about to cook and you have to take it an hour before food. I pass you the bottle, smiling and trying to not look too closely at the dosage. Two 500 milligrams.

You take them with a glass of water, grimacing as you swallow them. I smile at you sympathetically. Your gaze darkens.

"I want to die." You say simply.

I don't respond.

You repeat yourself.

I don't know what to say anymore. My mouth feels dry, my tongue heavy and words try to escape but they can't. They can't. They can't. They can't.

You apologise. There's tears in those blue eyes and there's something else, something. Desperation.

Can't can't can't can't.

You don't say anything as you come closer to me. Your eyes caution me, staring carefully at my own.

Your lips press firmly against mine, a soft, tender and gentle kiss. Your hands shake as you cup my face and I draw you closer, fingers curling in your fine hair. Your eyes don't shut, neither do mine and we stare at each other, eyes locked in a fierce and fiery and beautiful and soft meeting. The kiss ends.

"Give me them Dan." Your voice is so strong. The strongest it has been in months. You've accepted. I haven't. My hands are frozen, knuckles white around the bottle. I'm shaking, the pills rattling against the glass walls.

I can't.

You reach forward and I don't pull back. Your hand closes over mine, eyes meeting mine and for a second I think you've changed your mind. Everything about you is weak, your body quaking with the effort of even supporting yourself.

Molton sapphire irises are the only thing that are still you.

I feel a choked sob rise in my throat. I bite it back.

You pull my fingers away from the bottle, slowly taking it from me. My shoulders shake. You trace your fingers across my palm, soft fingertips stroking the rough skin. Your hand pulls away.

The emptiness hits me instantly.

You turn away from me. I can see your bones through your shirt, vertebrae of your neck visible through translucent skin.

My knees hit the ground, my stomach churning and swirling and I lurch forward, vomiting yellow bile onto the carpet. My head connects with the wall, a sharp and clear pain shooting through my skull. My vision blurs, with tears and the pain and the fact that you're gone.

I drag myself up, fingernails scraping against the wall and I stagger along the hallway to the bathroom, throwing myself in front of the toilet bowl and throwing up again. My head spins, throat burns my whole body a searingly hot, aching mess, wracked with grief.

I fall back onto the floor, head smashing against the tiles and I feel my consciousness slipping, slipp in g

X

_sing for absolution_  
_I will be singing_  
_And falling from your grace_

_there's nowhere left to hide_  
_in no one to confide_  
_the truth burns deep inside_  
_and will never die_

_lips are turning blue_  
_a kiss that can't renew_  
_I only dream of you_  
_my beautiful_

X

I wake on the bathroom floor. There's dried vomit on my chin and a dull ache in my neck. Everything is numb. There's a lump on the back of my head, a dull ache emanating from the source. Ignorable. Barely there.

I drag myself up, knees cracking and head spinning with exertion but I don't feel anything. My breathing echoes on the tiles. I avoid the mirror.

Your body is in this flat.

My stomach lurches again.

I don't know how long I've been out. I don't check. I don't know what to do.

My breathing is fast, hurried in short gasps and I can't stop it I can't I can't I can't can't can't can't

everything is blurring r ed patches in my vision falli ng breadking hujrtingf pain achging

end it alle nd it

I collapse into a door, feel it swing open in front of me and I see it and then I scream.

X

They say that grief engulfs us when we suffer a great loss. That the grief plunges us to despair and everything a human feels is cut off from the world. All emotions are isolated and feeling is lost.

Pain is not a feeling.

Every tendon of my being burns with agony, my breathing laboured through aching lungs, my head splitting, palpitations.

This is worse that death.

I stroke your hair. You're not dead. Your body is still, lifeless yet eethereallybeautiful. Your eyes are open, and they're fixed on my face but they aren't blue anymore. Not really. They're grey and patchy and they're dull and they're dead. You're not dead.

Your hand is clasped around mine. It's cold and it isn't really holding me at all but it is because you're not dead.

Your cheekbones are sunken, blue lips slightly parted and your skin is grey. You're pressed against me, chest against my ribs. There's no pulse. Impossible. You're not dead.

Gently, I shut your eyes. You don't open them again. You're just sleeping. You're tired, you're ill.

I drag you closer to me. I clutch you to my chest, a small bundle within my arms. I press a kiss to your temple.

"I love you."

But you're dead.

X

My dreams are haunted by your face, rotting and peeling and decomposing. There's a weight pressing on my chest, heavy and cold and un-moving. I can't breathe.

X

I'm stuck in an endless limbo and I don't know whether it's my fault or not. Your face taunts me. Dead dead dead. It's never the dead man's fault.

I killed you.

Daniel Howell killed Phillip Lester.

And in the end, that's all that really matters.

They don't care that _I love you_ and that I care so much and it hurts me and you didn't want to be here anymore and that I'm mourning more than anyone and that I loathe myself more than anyone and nobody cares.

Because Daniel Howell killed Phillip Lester and there is nothing I can do to change that.

X

_sing for absolution_  
_I will be singing_  
_And falling from your grace_

_our wrongs remain unrectified_  
_and our souls won't be exhumed_

X

Pills are scattered all over the bed. All around us.

Because this is it, this is how I go because this is how you went.

The phone has been ringing. It was the hospital at first. Then the police. Our families called. Our friends. I switched the phone off.

Because this is our day.

I've accepted. Now I'm taking my action.

I read the boxes.

Penicillin: 200mg. Take two tablets four times a day on an empty stomach.

Zydol: 500mg. Take one tablet four times a day. Do not exceed dosage.

Codine: 500mg. Take one tablet four times a day. WARNING: do not exceed recommended dosage. If dosage is exceeded seek immediate medical care.

I take ten of each.

I pull you towards me, turning so I'm on my side next to you and press my cheek against your's. I intertwine our fingers, a tear spilling down my cheek.

"I love you." And my whole being wishes that you are still alive to hear it, still with me so you could say it back, then we'd fall asleep together and wake in the morning in our own little bubble of domestic bliss.

But you're dead.

My body is shaking and everything is slipping away from me, even you because I can feel nothing.

Nothin g

theres a knocjing at hte door andf its pouinding andf it hurts  
myt head and i tr y to coverm y ears buit i casnt

theres shou ting voicges and screaimng and myt b rain is explodngi

im slipp i n g

p a in and

X

_end_

X


End file.
